


One Week Since

by Evaldrynn



Series: In Her Loving Memory [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Even Dagny, F/M, Fluff, Fǫruneyti Alternate Timeline, Fǫruneyti Alternate Universe, Healer is an OC, Lots of Angst, My goal is to make everyone cry by the end of this series, Romance, Smut, So Brant is there, The cast of Fǫruneyti is in here as well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 16:43:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12136728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evaldrynn/pseuds/Evaldrynn
Summary: She had to be his. He did not know why, did not know what made him feel this almost magnetic pull towards her; but he was determined like never before. She would be his, and his alone.A Fǫruneyti fic yet in an Alternate Universe/Timeline, in which many, many things have happened differently. The character cast is the same, the magic system is the same, but oh so many things have changed.Please read Fǫruneyti first!





	One Week Since

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fǫruneyti](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10937811) by [Evaldrynn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evaldrynn/pseuds/Evaldrynn). 



> I have made Healer into an Original Character here, but you could still read it as a Loki/Reader if you wish!  
> I will post every part of this series as separate works, and eventually you will figure out why. 
> 
> Please enjoy!

There was something about her that had caught his interest. 

Was it her beauty? Compared to the average woman at the ball she was a flower amongst the weeds, yet appearance had never truly been enough to capture his attention. She was not even of any significant descent, judging from her simple dress: a worker at the palace, yet not as low in ranking as a maid. Still, despite her bloodline, he could not tear his eyes away from her and followed her every movement from his position against the golden wall. 

He did not inherently loathe balls and parties, as they were a great opportunity to put the mischief he was famous for into practice; yet he wasn't particularly fond of them either. The attendants were half-wits and incredibly uninteresting, their conversations reaching no deeper level than the weather or the obnoxiously elaborate party around them, and the food and ale was only of mediocre quality - and this was not even the best, or, perhaps, _worst_ his 'parents' could do. In a few weeks time there would be a next, even more extravagant ball, at which masks were to be an obligation in order to attend. An utter waste of time and resources. 

But her gaze, the look in her blue, gold-speckled eyes – recognition, fear, and something he could not quite put his finger on – had sparked something within him. Curiosity, perhaps. And so he prepared for a hunt. 

Things like this would make the dreadfully long evening bearable. The shadowing, making sure she was never out of his sight, keeping his eyes on her and reaching out with his magic to hopefully make her meet his gaze. He wanted her to know the game had started. 

The predator had chosen its prey. 

His every step was calculated, the distance between them significant and occupied with other attendees, yet he took care to always be visible – be it in her peripheral vision or directly in her line of sight.

And, seemingly by accident, her eyes met his for the second time that evening.

He felt the adrenaline blossom within him, a smirk growing on his lips as he knew his stare would perfectly convey his goal. He had not been aware of it himself at first; had merely thought of it as a distraction from his own boredom, had discarded it as his need for mischief. But it was not mischief on his mind. 

Oh, no; it was something else entirely. 

But she was not like the others. He knew she would not immediately give in, would not take his hand and follow him to his chambers like many of those power-hungry, brainless quims would; there was too much shock, dread, and fear in those entrancing eyes. No, she would most likely run from him, decline him, perhaps; or try and lie to him. Yet, somehow, whether it were those emotions he could not define swirling amongst the ones he recognised, he knew that he could be successful - if he played his cards right.  
And that excited him even more.  
A game was not worth playing when the hunted did not even try to run. Those glorified 'ladies', with their mindless flirting (mostly aimed at his brother, of course) and ear-gratingly high voices, posed no challenge; and he knew they would never satisfy him in the way she would. 

And though he did not know what had him so convinced, the mere thought of her beneath him, quivering with the pleasure he brought her; it sent a warmth spreading through his body that inevitably ended up pooling at his loins. 

 

The more he looked at her, the more he realised how much he preferred her beauty over anyone else present at the ball – or even in the entire palace. The slight tan of her skin, telling him she had a profession that required her to leave the confinements of the palace walls. The brown hair that framed her pretty face, half of it simply yet elegantly done into two braids that met at the back of her head like a semi-crown while the rest cascaded till just past her shoulders in gentle waves. The sharpness in the gold-speckled blue that spoke of how her intellect rose high above the others around her, and the soft pink of her lips as she pulled them in a polite yet strained smile. He wanted to claim them. He wanted to claim all of her. 

The intensity of his own desire surprised him so much that he had to avert his eyes for a moment. He could not remember feeling like this before – not so soon, not with someone he had only spotted less than an hour ago. Yet when he wanted to focus back on her, wanted to search deeper for anything that could explain his pull towards her -

she was gone. 

The woman she had been talking to seemed slightly disappointed, as if their conversation had been cut short, and his smirk returned. Had she used his momentary distraction to escape him? Oh, this could still become a very interesting night indeed. 

 

He moved fluidly through the crowd, weaving through the people with the elegance of a snake. Every time he spotted the light brown of her dress, every time he caught a glimpse of her sun-kissed skin or met the worried glance she threw around to scan for him, she was quick to disappear again.  
He admired her audacity to run from a prince. She should be honoured by his interest, should be waiting for him to approach her and speak to her, and should thank him for deeming her worthy of his time. And yet she avoided him. It was like dancing with the wind, dancing with a partner he could not see yet he knew was there, and he longed to see her. To hold her. To kiss her.

It was difficult to keep the growl from leaving his throat as frustration began to rise when another hour slipped past without any progress. She was playing this game too well, was just as good at hiding as he was at tracking her down. 

He did not have much time left. 

Soon the moment at which it was regarded as acceptable to leave the ball would come, and she would be able to slip out with the others. He would not be able to see her until the masked ball, unless he searched the palace for her. And he had the feeling that he would. He had the feeling that he would search for her until he knew for sure she was nowhere to be found, and even then he would keep looking. 

 

The moment came closer and closer, and he stopped catching glimpses of her. If it hadn't been for his trust in his own mind he might have started to wonder whether she had just been a figment of his imagination, something his brain had made up to keep from being numbed by boredom. 

And then he spotted her. 

She was caught up in a conversation with one of the men he knew to be of Thor's clique of idiots. There was gratitude in his dark brown eyes, in his smile, in his entire posture, and the warm smile she gave him in return set a jealousy ablaze that once more caught him off-guard. But this was his chance to strike. 

He strode over to her, determined and confident yet smooth and elegant, he hoped even intimidatingly so, and he noticed how her eyes shot to him while she kept her face towards the soldier. Her speech grew more hurried, her hands more fidgety as she tried to force the conversation to come to an end. It almost hurt how desperately she wanted to escape him.

He mentally pushed the bizarre feelings aside and let a dark smile creep onto his face as he stalked closer and closer. Only four streps away. 

Three steps. 

Two.

One. 

Zero. 

“My apologies for my interruption, yet the lady has caught my eye and I wish to ask her for a dance.” He turned to her, his heart contracting strangely at the indescribable look she gave him, but his smile did not waver as he extended his hand out towards her. “May I?” He also did not miss the worry and hate shooting through the soldier's eyes; he simply chose to ignore it. 

And though she seemed frozen for a moment, there was no longer fear in her eyes – it was defeat. 

She curtsied. “How could I deny a prince?” 

There was a light smile pulling on the corners of her lips but it was mirthless, empty, even sorrowful in a way. Another peculiar sting through his chest.  
But the moment she lay her hand in his, callused yet still remarkably soft, his heart was kick-started back to life. A second rush of warmth and his goal was clear once more. 

 

He guided her to the centre of the massive, circular hall, where he stopped and lay his free hand on her hip. The fantasy of her bare skin beneath his slender fingers made his heart speed up just a tiny bit, and though he had no effort hiding it he couldn't prevent his glance from darkening.  
He waited a beat to flow into the music, then set the first step. Back, right, right, back, raising her hand to allow her to spin slowly before pulling her back into his arms, continuing like synchronised clockwork. 

He was impressed. She followed his every movement seemingly without a second thought, as if she could read the signs of his body without an ounce of effort. He was a good Lead yet she knew when to turn and twirl, when to step closer and when to give him room, and things like that required at least a minimal amount of training. Where had she learned this? The workers in the palace were too low of class to be taught in such arts, even if her status was above the servants. 

“Your dancing is exquisite, my lady.” An unspoken question beneath his words. Would she pick up on it? 

She still did not meet his eyes as she answered. “I had the privilege of being taught by one of the best tutors in the palace; and in my opinion the best in all of the Nine.” 

Another rush of jealousy. What kind of relationship did she have with this 'great' tutor of hers? He twirled her around again, before pulling her against his body once more – even closer this time. 

“And this is the only dance they taught you? Then perhaps I have an offer that may be hard to refuse.” He grinned wickedly, his fingers on her hip tightening their grip as he leaned forward and lowered his voice to a purr. “A rather intimate dance, that provides more pleasure than any of these formal dances ever could.” 

But she stopped dancing, let go of his hand and shoulder, and finally raised her eyes to meet his - and the things he saw made his heart contract so violently that for a moment he forgot how to breathe. 

Hurt, loss, sorrow;

Regret, lust, and _affection_. 

Unshed tears glistened in her waterline and when she smiled, oh, when she smiled the entire realm around them was forgotten-

“I'm sorry, Loki.” 

And before the confusion could settle she closed the distance between their bodies again, lay her hand on his chest, lifted onto her toes, 

and softly pressed her lips against his.

**Author's Note:**

> So here is the first part! Fǫruneyti is still my main fic, and I will only upload to this one whenever I'm stuck there.  
> The next part will be uploaded under the same series (In Her Loving Memory) yet as a separate chapter, so look out for that! (●´ω｀●)
> 
> Thank you very much for reading and as always, comments, kudos, fanarts, and donations are always very much appreciated!  
> Hit me up on my blogs!  
> http://feelingwonderfultoday.tumblr.com/  
> http://foruneyti.tumblr.com/


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